


Telling

by Millgirl



Series: The Heatwave [3]
Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-09 23:45:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19486417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Millgirl/pseuds/Millgirl
Summary: After the events related in Cuffed and Clued Up, Miranda and Andy set about telling the world of their relationship. As expected, it doesn't always go smoothly.





	1. Scribes and Sugar Mommies

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, the usual disclaimer: I do not own these characters, nor do I have any financial stake in them. The story is just for fun and enjoyment. If you don't enjoy reading about gay sex between women, don't read, as my favorite characters usually end up in bed together! Thank you so much for all the kudos and comments you send me. I appreciate them all.

“We write what we are. However we disguise it, or try to deflect attention from the core of it, each of us has only one essential story which is who we are. And if we can’t write it ourselves, we have to find a scribe to tell the story for us. That is what I can do. I want to tell people’s stories. They need telling. I want to be a scribe.”

Andrea Sachs was lying on the sofa in her beloved’s town house study, her legs draped inelegantly over the end of the soft leather lounger and her head in Miranda’s lap. It was the end of a long week at the Runway office, and they were both tired. Miranda played with Andy’s hair, something which always calmed her down and soothed her restless fingers, but she felt unsettled and a little threatened nevertheless. Andy was waffling on like she so often did, but she knew she was trying to persuade her to agree to their professional separation, and she didn’t like it. No, she didn’t like it one bit. 

“My darling girl, you can write and tell the world anything you want from right here, and you don’t need to abandon me to the ignoramuses at Elias Clarke all day either. Just sit in the corner of the office where I can look at you now and then. That won’t be too much of an imposition, surely.”

“Imposition? It’s flipping torture. I can’t hack it, Miranda, I can’t be that near to you and not want to climb up onto you and start taking your clothes off. It’s been a month now since we got back from Provincetown, and it’s worse instead of better. I’m entranced by you, by your house, by your children. What I can’t afford to be entranced by is you as my boss 24/7. I need a plain office with no distractions. I need to be bored and dreary, so I go inwards and write. Can’t you do the decent thing and quietly fire me.” 

“If I fire you I would have to keep you. You’ll have no money of your own. Can I afford it?”

“Hey, I don’t mind being your concubine. I‘ll charge you for sex if you like. Or you can just be my sugar mommy. I just can’t hack being at Runway anymore, adoring you from the outer office, and not being able to concentrate on a single thing.”

“Well, I don’t entirely dislike the idea of being a sugar mommy. What precisely do you envisage that might involve?” 

“Oh I’d cut you a very good deal. All you’d have to do is keep me in the very modest way in which I’m accustomed, and in return you would have sole rights of access, 24/7 care and attention, free tips on this season’s various sports teams’ chances, very reliable child care, and the chance to play with my hair.”

Miranda tugged at Andy’s hair, and didn’t let go. She snorted, “It doesn’t sound a good deal at all. I already do enjoy the right to everything on your list now, and the chance to dictate letters which you have to go off and type up for me, and watch you sashay back and forth in front of me all day. I don’t care for the idea of not being able to do that, nor of not knowing what you’re up to during working hours.”  
“Ah, now we have it! Miranda’s lovely blue eyes have turned green again. You’re so adorable when you’re jealous, I may have to think of something to give you a real excuse for it. But to be serious, I do really need time and space to be able to do some writing, and you are going to let me, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

“I already let you write. The article about Sally our friendly cop is set for the November edition.”

“Yes, thank you for accepting it. It means the world and when it comes out I can send a copy to my Mom and Dad to show I am doing something with my time in New York, but it’s given me the taste for more.”

Andrea swung her feet to the floor, stood up, twirled round and pulled her lover up to join her. She wrapped her arms around Miranda’s neck and nuzzled her ear. “Come on Babe, we’ve tried to make this work for six weeks now. Ask Emily to find you a new second assistant. She’s so practised at the art, and she is frankly getting on my nerves a bit, always speculating aloud what on earth it is you can possibly see in me.”

Miranda allowed herself to be nuzzled. “Oh well, I suppose you’re right. Let’s discuss it again tomorrow. You are staying tonight, aren’t you?”

“Natch. I promised Cass and Caro I’d take them swimming tomorrow morning.”

“Come to bed then. And you can explain the concubine idea in more detail.”

Miranda’s voice dropped to its most seductive, and they climbed the stairs together. Every so often Andrea pretended she might go to sleep back at her apartment, and so Miranda always made a point of asking her to stay at the town house. Andy usually gave an affirmative answer with a logical reason, unconnected with the real and obvious excuse of being head over heels in love and desperate to get into bed with her beloved. While Miranda’s girls had been away at camp, they had spent several nights in Andy’s apartment, but the twins obviously needed their Mom at home in the town house now. 

Andy loved the two little girls and was building her relationship with them almost independently of Miranda. After such a disrupted childhood they needed stability and she didn’t expect them to trust her without a lot more reassurance, and without them seeing she was in their lives for good, not just a temporary fancy of their mother’s.

In the early months of working for Miranda, she could see they were repeatedly testing her resolve to stay around, in fact very like their crazy mom. Miranda had asked Andy to perform outrageous tricks and Herculean tasks on a daily basis, but she could now see all the games had been a ploy to secure her completely within the pages of her editor’s personal life.

Miranda’s needs were just as obvious and as straightforward as her children’s. Andy realised now just how simple they were, to be able to love and be loved, and to hold her love on a permanent basis. What made it complicated was the outside world putting up objections to this simple idea. The loving bit was the easiest thing in the world. Telling it to others was much harder and this was where the waters became muddy. 

Theirs was an intensely gay relationship without ambiguities, in a mainstream mostly straight world, but neither woman had come out nor identified as lesbian before. They considered themselves self-taught, but naturally gifted and improving with practice! None of the small circle of people who knew of their relationship, Emily, Serena, the beauty editor, Nigel and Roy, Miranda’s driver, had any real understanding of the intensity of their passion. In fact it sometimes unnerved them both, which made the obstacles to it seem even more potent. 

Andy was a generation younger than Miranda. She had no possessions, only student debts. Miranda was undoubtedly a millionaire, even though her finances remained in a land of mystery where Andy had no wish to pry. Miranda was also her boss, with a fire at will clause at her disposal, so this made their power imbalance look enormous to any observers. And to top it all, work based relationships were officially proscribed at Elias Clarke, and Miranda had a completely unsympathetic CEO above her who would relish the chance to pitch her out of being Editor in Chief of Runway at a moment’s notice.

No wonder Andrea wanted to resign her post, and make life easier at work for her best beloved. And as for her own family’s as yet untested reactions, Miranda’s current divorce procedures, and her children’s natural sensitivities, that cluster of complications created another whole ball-game. 

For her part, Miranda had certainly screwed herself up in knots for months over it all, with the added stress initially of not knowing if Andrea even in any way reciprocated her passion. When she had finally lost control and lunged at the young woman after the French Consul’s reception, Andy’s complete delight and enthusiasm for the idea of a relationship had been her single most unexpected joy since the twins’ birth. 

The other thing which helped them, over all the inevitable bumps of blending their lives, was their shared sense of humour, and the way they enjoyed playing off each other. They could make the other laugh almost as easily as they could be enticed into a white hot frenzy of desire. Miranda’s dry wit and Andy’s quick fire ability to drop one-liners gave them constant amusement. It also got them into trouble and almost made their love affair more apparent to others than if they had been caught French kissing in the Runway corridor.

Tonight, though, was simply about winding up the week with sweet, sweet love. Within Miranda’s bedroom, behind a locked door, they slowly stripped off each other’s clothes, feeling for gentle revelations, small encounters, one at a time. Miranda unfastened Andy’s buttons on her cotton shirt and replaced them with soft kisses down her breastbone. Andy took Miranda’s head of silver hair and gently massaged it out of its hair-sprayed perfection until it was sufficiently pliable to push back from her face and allow her to dot kisses all over her forehead. It took them almost twenty minutes of similarly delightful small acts of courtship just to achieve a level of naked arousal from the waist upwards. Their breasts mirrored each other’s, hardened rosy nipples beckoning from flushed and slightly damp feminine mounds of enticing flesh. 

Andy slowly tipped Miranda back onto the bed, and worked her magic on the bottom half of her lover’s undressing. Miranda let her take the lead tonight. Sometimes she initiated sex so enthusiastically, Andy had to acquiesce completely and instantly in total surrender, but tonight she needed reassurance and to follow instead of lead. Her shoes had already fallen, her skirt, for she rarely wore pants, was tugged down and tossed unceremoniously across the room, and she lay there panting in just her underwear. The weather was still far too hot for stockings or, heaven forbid, tights.

Andy loomed over her, her own loose linen pants rubbing deliciously against Miranda’s thighs. She then stood back and removed them, hanging them neatly over a chair. She was teasing the fastidious Miranda with this care and attention compared with the way she had stripped off Miranda’s various garments, not one of which rested anywhere but the floor.

“Can I take off my make-up?”

“No.”

“Please.”

“Oh, very well, but I’ll deal with it for you.”

Andy went across to Miranda’s capacious bathroom and ran the cold tap, she pulled out a facecloth and rinsed it under the cold water, grabbed a small towel and came back. She had ignored all of Miranda’s normal panoply of expensive cleansers, creams and gentle makeup removal pads. Miranda’s heart beat increased, and her naked chest began to rise and fall nervously. 

“Come here darling, “whispered Andrea, fiercely. She cupped Miranda’s head in her left hand and with her right, smothered her face with the dripping wet flannel, washing her like a naughty, grubby child who had been playing in the mud. She dispatched the eye makeup, blusher, eyebrow enhancer, foundation, primer, and goodness knows what else with a few vigorous wipes. Miranda spluttered and tried to protest, but submitted to the process with a chuckle. 

“There. That’s better.” The face cloth was set aside. The naked face firmly but gently kissed. 

“Can I clean my teeth?”

“No, I like to taste the scotch.” They had shared a nightcap, and Miranda’s normal favourite was two fingers of Glenlivet over ice.

“You’re very bossy tonight.”

“That’s right. Turn over.” 

Miranda turned, so she lay on her stomach and her breasts felt every crease in her pure cotton sheets. Andy pulled her underwear down and away from her legs, kissing all the erogenous zones which made Miranda gasp and squeal, the crease of her buttock, behind her knees, her ankles and the soles of her feet, which were especially ticklish. When she thought Miranda had been sufficiently tortured, Andrea lay naked across her lower body, supporting half her weight on one elbow, but using her other hand to draw gentle pictures up the back of Miranda’s thighs. She then tiptoed further with her fingers, pushing her legs apart as she went so that she could reach her most intimate places, the little garden of delights where she loved to feel Miranda’s warm, wet folds. She brushed her labia with a feathery touch and very, very lightly started to caress the whole area. Miranda felt her arousal begin to flood the valley and was powerless to control it. She growled and almost bit the pillow under her mouth.

“Oh God, help me, Andy, deeper please, harder”

When Miranda was on the way to heaven, her normal drawled “Andrea” turned to a screamed “Andy!”

“Sshh, all in good time. I’ve got you Babe. I won’t let you suffer.”

Miranda bucked and quivered against Andy’s fingers, she pulled them into her body by the sheer force of her need. 

Andy entered her with two long slender fingers and then expanded the team to three. She could feel Miranda’s clit, engorged and throbbing against the base of her thumb, and then as she began to build up a rhythm, sense it withdraw to allow her greater ease of access into the main event beyond. It was such a privilege to do this, to make love to her goddess. Andy’s natural instinct was to want to make the build-up last through a very slow crescendo, but she owed it to Miranda to let her come sooner rather than later, and she knew she was holding back until Andy gave her permission to go for it. 

“Can you turn back round to me while I’m inside you? I want to see your face as you come.”

Miranda groaned but swivelled against Andy’s hand and as she withdrew it for a moment, flipped in the bed so she now had her hands free, and could stare deep into her lover’s eyes in the low light from the bedside lamp. Her look was as wild as a she-wolf caught in a trap, sharp and feral. She grabbed Andy’s shoulders, and went for her neck, determined to leave an indelible bruise. Her hips were bucking up and down with a will of their own against Andy’s hand. 

Andrea knew she was ready, and the thrill of bringing Miranda up to the top of the ski-jump helped her share the lift-off. They climaxed together in a double whammy of orgasmic flight, and metaphorically skidded to a halt together as their breathing settled and the blood flow through their bodies became normal. 

Andy just had sufficient energy left to reach to the side and flick off the lamp. The room was now pitch dark, so all Miranda’s senses were channelled into touch and hearing, as Andy crooned sweet nothings into her ear, and lay still with her spell binding hand inside her. It was perfect. She knew Andy was right in what she had suggested. The last thing she thought before she fell asleep was that she would do as she asked and fire her beloved from the job which had brought them together. The practicalities could be sorted in the morning but it would definitely out them to the wider world, and what the next few weeks would involve, there was no telling.


	2. Not a problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Caroline and Cassidy approve of their Mom's new life choices?

“Andy, Andy, where are you? We’re all set to go!”

“Are you ready, munchkins? Swimsuits, goggles, towels?”

“Sure, we’ve been ready for ages. Come on, Please!”

Andrea straightened up from the fridge where she was extracting a carton of milk, and looked at the couple of auburn haired pixies doing their usual mad highland fling round the kitchen. 

“Just wait two minutes while I take this coffee up for your Mom, then we’ll be on the way.”

“Is she coming to watch us later? Tell her she has to. I want her to see me dive.”

“Sure, Cass. Of course she’ll come. We’re all going to eat breakfast together at Miller’s Bakehouse Kitchen afterwards. You know, where they have the yummy blueberry pancakes.”

Andrea added milk to a spill proof flagon of coffee, gave it an extra shot of boiling water, and set off upstairs at a swift jog. All she could see of Miranda in the bedroom was a shock of white hair emerging from under a cotton sheet in the centre of their bed. There were some signs though of a momma bear slowly waking from its nest of leaves.

“Coffee, darling! Drink it soon or you’ll be complaining about it being cold.”

“Hmm. Sure. Thanks love. Can you put it on the bedside table? You all going to the club for swimming already? . . . What’s the time?”

“Quarter of eight. No need for you to get up yet. But the twins are keen you see them dive, so can you join us in an hour? They did so well at camp, and have been practising several times since.”

“Of course. Just don’t let them break their necks on the bottom of the pool.”

“Of course. Don’t worry. Well, I know you can’t help it, but we’ll take great care. Oh, and could you call and book us in for breakfast at the Kitchen as well? It’s often crowded on Saturdays. 9.30 would be good.”

“Sounds fine. But you realise we’ve never actually all gone there together? It’s a magnet for the paparazzi at weekends.”

“That’s partly why I thought it would be a good spot. It’s a gentle way to show we’re a family, and there are so many kids there, the girls won’t get hassled over much”

Miranda’s sticking up hair was joined by her face, pink from sleep, and then by a pair of bare shoulders. She reached for her coffee and sipped it with pleasure. She loved it when Andrea talked about them being family.

“What would I do without you? Have I ever told you I love you?”

“Andy! Come on!”

A pair of little voices called in stereo from downstairs. 

“Must go. Their session starts at eight fifteen. I love you too, gorgeous woman, and I’ll see you soon.”

Andy leaned over the bed and kissed her lover on the lips. “Last night it was scotch. Today it’s coffee. You make every drink the sexiest taste in the world.”

“Take care all of you, that’s all. I love you too much.”

“Andy!”

“Coming!” and Andrea had vanished into the morning, a vision in white tee shirt, blue denim shorts and a long dancing pony tail of chestnut curls tied up with a red spotted cotton ribbon. 

Miranda heard her daughters shout “Bye Mom!” from the hall below, and the door down to the basement garage entry slam behind them. She lay back on the pillows and finished her coffee in peace. Her weekends were so much less frenetic now that Andy was with them, and did more than her fair share of parenting duties with the twins. In the old days she would have had to be up at seven to supervise breakfast or early swimming lessons, dog walking, piano practice, play-dates, and now all she had to do was to ease herself out of bed, do her slow stretching routine and head for the shower.

It was a privilege she appreciated unreservedly, for their happiness with Andy spilled over into the twins’ relationship with her. She could see how they regarded Andy as a gift she had given them, someone who was so much fun, so positive, so unselfish, so interested in every little thing they did. If coming out to the world was maybe going to be thorny, at least to the twins, her visible love for Andy had been seen as the smartest thing their Mom had ever done. 

On the way home from camp four weeks before, the girls had explored their relationship with forensic zeal. She remembered it with a wry smile. 

“So Mom, you’ve got Andy really working 24/7 now? Are you paying her overtime?”

Andrea was driving, but caught their eyes in the mirror and gave them her sweetest smile. 

“I came to share the driving, and because I really like your Mom, girls. She doesn’t have to pay me to want to be here with you all.” 

“But Mom is such a bossy-boots. All her assistants leave after a few weeks, or she fires them. Mom, when are you going to fire Andy?”

“Never.”

“Never?!” The twins had exchanged very intense looks. 

“Well, maybe from the job if it’s what she wants. But never from my life.”

Caroline leaned forward from the back seat and put her hands on Miranda’s shoulders.

“Mom, is this for real? Are you and Andy, you know, special friends, or something?”

“Yes, we are special friends. We’re also something else. I’m thinking eventually we might all live together, if you two are happy with that idea. How would it be if Andy moved in with us at home, maybe before Christmas?”

“Gee, Mom. That would be great. Andy can do all our homework and we can introduce her to our friends. We’ve already told them we know a college soft-ball champ. That was so cool.”

“Soft-ball champ? Why don’t I know anything about this?”

Andrea rolled her eyes at the girls’ reflection. 

“Oh, now then girlies, I told you, not your Mom. I left it off my resume for Runway. It wasn’t exactly relevant for an assistant job on a fashion mag.”

Miranda had wondered what else Andrea had left off her resume. She had known about her playing for an amateur team in New York, and she certainly appeared more than fit enough. But wasn’t women’s softball known for its gay following? If Andy kept playing, how soon might she tire of her aged lover and be lured into the arms of someone with firmer biceps and lovelier, more toned stomach muscles? 

Miranda had felt all her insecurities rise up and bite her. She would be fifty next birthday. When Andy was her age, what would she be, seventy four or five, if she was still alive even? It seemed an impossible dream that Andy would love her for that long. But if it could happen, then at least the twins would have someone dear to them still in their lives. Their father was five years older than she was, and his lifestyle was so generally unhealthy that he could succumb to a coronary or stroke at any time. 

The voice from the driver’s seat next to her broke across her thoughts. 

“If I come to live with you all, let’s get one thing straight. I can teach you to pitch and catch a ball, but I’m not doing your homework for you anymore. Aren’t you ashamed even to expect that? How will you learn anything, if you get other people to do all your assignments and projects? You are two very bright little sausages, and you are well able to do your own homework!”

Andrea sounded quite firm and a little strict. Miranda jolted herself out of her gloomy forecasting, and looked sideways at her with respect. The words were a gentle rebuke to her, she knew, for the arrogant expectations she had had in the past that her assistants would step in and make up for her lack of commitment in supporting the twins’ school activities. 

She could see even more clearly that Andrea’s presence in their family would be wholly beneficial, and it reminded her of how efficient and organised Andy actually was, under that diverting and charming mask of fluster and diffidence she sometimes adopted. She so wanted her to join her family. 

“Yes, no more homework. I absolutely endorse that. Would you both still be OK if we lived together?” 

She squeezed Caroline’s hands nestling round her neck, and looked back at Cassidy, who was gazing out of the car window. They had both caught the sun during their two weeks at camp, despite all her fussing about sunblock and hats, and their freckles had deepened. They also seemed to have grown at least three inches. She loved her little girls so much it made her feel foolish.

Cassidy spoke quietly. 

“We’d love it Mom, especially if it makes you happy. We don’t mind you being gay.”

Miranda and Andrea had exchanged shocked looks of mutual surprise. How much did these ten year olds know about being gay? Andrea changed lanes and put her foot on the accelerator. She decided to let Miranda deal with responding to her child’s first acknowledgement of the true nature of their relationship. 

Miranda kept her voice light and calm, and prayed she hadn’t blushed.

“What made you think I’m gay? Do you know what it means even?”

“Oh Mom, everyone knows what gay means. There’s a boy and girl at Dalton’s with two Moms, instead of a dad and a Mom. Anyway Steven said to us once months ago, “Your mother’s a frigging dyke.” We didn’t know what a dyke was, so we went and looked it up on Google.” Cassidy seemed quite in control of her words. Caroline added, “We did know what frigging stood for. Steven was a jerk. We’re so happy you dumped him.”

Caroline gave her mother’s shoulders another squeeze. The gentler of the two girls, she was obviously concerned that they had upset her somewhat. 

“We think Andy is really great. If you can get her to live with us, then that’s cool with us. You can even kiss and cuddle her if you like.”

Miranda and Andrea had exchanged a small sigh of relief. The twins were still children after all, and they could grow in understanding about adult sexuality naturally, as they matured into puberty. 

Andrea joined in the conversation, and rounded it off smoothly. “The important thing is that yes, your Mom and I, we do love each other, and we both love you. I’m happy to help you in any way I can, just not on the homework detail. Now tell us more of what you’ve got up to over the last two weeks. I want to hear all about that horse-riding.”

And so the long trip home had gone smoothly. The exhausted twins had soon nodded off in the back seat, and the ladies up front had quietly chatted their way back towards the big city lights of New York. Miranda’s basket of fears had one less package in it, and another twinge eased in the following week when Andy announced out of the blue that she was resigning from her softball team at the end of the summer season. 

“It’s too far from here over to the Bronx twice a week, and the twins will keep me fit enough chasing after them.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” Miranda had felt a kiss on her head, and a squeeze of her shoulders, and another weight had lifted. She didn’t deserve Andrea who knew of her insecurities without either of them saying a word. God, she loved the girl.

She’d taken her Porsche sports car to follow them all to the swimming club, and watched in awe as her little daughters climbed one by one up onto the spring board and both dived neatly and efficiently into the deep end of the long pool. Raised in England, with lessons in a frigid outdoor Lido, her swimming skills were minimal. She could keep afloat but that was about it. How had she given birth to two such neat little athletes?

“You were fantastic, Bobbsies. Well done!”

They had dried and dressed and were walking to the car in the bright sunshine. It was going to be another blazing day. The women swopped vehicles and Miranda drove on ahead to the Pancake Kitchen with the girls in the Lexus. Andrea took the keys to the Porsche. Miranda had added her to the insurance on both cars. She wanted Andrea to have the Porsche in her name, but Andy had refused.

“Just put me on as a named driver. That’s fine.”

“Why won’t you let me give you more?”

“More? You fill my life with joy. What more could I possibly need?” Andy had parried. 

But last night she had jokingly suggested she could be Miranda’s concubine. As Miranda shepherded her damp haired daughters into breakfast, she realised the positive connotations of that thought. She and Andy were moving ever closer towards coupledom. 

Just as Sally, Andrea’s gay policewoman friend, had suggested, the next stage would be to put a ring on her love’s finger. If she accepted, and she fervently hoped she would, that would definitely tell the world who belonged in whose heart. She heard the Porsche purring engine draw into the parking lot behind them, and strode forward to claim their reserved table for breakfast this hot August Saturday in New York. 

Miranda had been right. Even though the restaurant management tried to exclude them, a gaggle of freelance photographers were lurking near its door, and also in the parking lot attached. It was a popular venue for the families of the Upper East Side, with stars of stage and screen often seen pushing their strollers through its door, and sometimes whole carpools’ full of celebrity children seated inside. 

Cass and Caro recognised a few school friends and waved at them. They both hung on Andy’s arms as she joined them to move across to be seated. They were the famous or infamous Priestly twins, well known to the gossip columnists, and Miranda had had to spit fire several times in the past at those who dared to name them, or speculate about what they were up to. One or two journalists now writing obituaries for a living in rural Idaho, owed their professional demise to speculating too freely on the family life of the Priestlys.

The Millers Bakehouse Kitchen breakfast was as scrumptious as ever, and while Miranda stuck to her (very boring) egg-white spinach omelette and black coffee, she enjoyed watching Andy and her daughters all tucking in to generous helpings of blueberries, cream cheese and pancakes.

“When we were at camp, we learned how to make Smores on the campfire, and dampers. They are wriggly worms of dough you cook over the fire,” informed Cassidy.

“I wish we could make a fire in our back yard, but it’s too small,” added Caro, eating the final spoonful of blueberry pancake.

“Well,” said Miranda, keeping Andy onside with a little lift of her eyebrows. “You know when we came up for you at the end of the Camp, Andy and I had been up to a town called Provincetown in Cape Cod. It’s by the sea. I haven’t told you before in case it fell through, but we’ve bought a little house there, next to the beach. You can make all the camp fires you like there on the sand. The paperwork will complete next week and we could all go up for the week leading up to Labor Day if you like. We could order furniture beforehand and have it delivered ready. Then we could settle in and enjoy the last week of the summer vacations before you go back to school. How does that sound?”

The twins were amazed, and delighted at this news.

“And Andy will be coming too?”

“Of course.”

“Great.”

“It may not be on the Internet yet though. You won’t get to bury your head in those games consoles all day.”

“Oh. Gee. But never mind. It’ll still be fun,” said Caroline magnanimously.

“What about the East Hampton house? Are we still keeping that?” asked Cassidy. 

“I’m not sure. I’ll see what your father says. Your Grandparents still enjoy going there, so we might make an arrangement that you can visit with them there if you like.”

“Don’t mind. We love Granny and Gramps, but East Hampton is really for grown-ups who like fancy food. Does Dad know you’ve bought this house in Provincetown?”

“No, and please don’t tell him before I do. I’ll be calling him tomorrow to discuss your next visit to him.”

Andrea watched the girls’ expressions change from enthusiasm into a sort of resigned gloom. They said nothing further. It was sad they weren’t happier about their regular visits to their Dad’s huge house near Boston, where he was a high-end divorce lawyer, now on his fourth young female partner. 

Two further marriages in the six years since his to Miranda had collapsed, had ended very expensively for him, despite all his professional expertise on behalf of his clients, so he was now determined to just keep to girlfriends. Always optimistic that he would soon relent and marry them, these girls tried their best at first to get along with his twin daughters, but this invariably had failed miserably. They soon considered them sullen brats, and the ensuing mutual dislike spilled over to sour father daughter relationships as well. 

Andy realised this was largely because their Dad so rarely spent quality time just with them, and so she was always careful to make sure Miranda and the twins had enough time just for the three of them to be together. It was the main reason she had not yet relinquished her apartment, but that would certainly have to go if she gave up her Assistant’s position at Runway. It was yet another thing to work through in her mind, and to talk to Miranda about.

Miranda today looked gorgeous, as usual, but her eyes danced and sparkled more than normal, and she was smiling at the world. Andy could feel the paparazzi boys gearing up for some exit pictures and braced herself to look away or slink into the shadows behind Miranda. Hopefully they might assume she was a Nanny or something, and not even include her in any shots. 

But Miranda had other ideas. She decided it was now or never. She deliberately linked arms with Andrea as they left through the door, and then in full view of the bevy of cameras, went further and took Andy’s left hand in her right. She smiled straight at the photographers as if daring them not to publish the picture. 

The twins even looked at each other and silently conferred on the matter of their Mom going mad. They knew all about Page 6 and the scavenging pack of tabloids running in its wake. Miranda strolled Andy to their cars parked beside each other, and held her hand to the end. 

“Are you sure that was wise, my love?” murmured Andy, as Miranda let her sit in the Porsche driver’s seat, and finally released her hand.

“Oh yes,” murmured Miranda. “Let’s get things moving here. I just need you to call your parents this weekend, and tell them about me, as much as you feel you want to. I don’t want this subterfuge to last any longer than it has to. You know what you mean to me, and that won’t change. Ever.”

One especially cheeky reporter had followed them to the cars. He almost swivelled up between Miranda and Andy sitting in the car. “Any news for us, Miranda? Who’s your new “friend”? He managed to load the last word with smut. Miranda turned and looked at him calmly. 

“If you wish to know anything, then look out for a press conference later in the week. I have some significant news about Runway and the bright future ahead for us all in the world of fashion. Now please get out of my way. I need to take my children out of this harmful sun.”

Andy hid behind the windows of the sports car and gently steered behind Miranda’s Lexus out of the parking lot. What had she meant about a press conference? And, oh dear, there was no escaping. She would have to do as Miranda asked and call her parents. Telling them might be the hardest conversation she had ever had. It was going to be a long and hot weekend.


	3. No friend like a Mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andy calls home.

The town house was cool and quiet when Andy picked up her sapphire covered I phone, a present from Miranda, strictly for non-business purposes, moved through to the kitchen and dialled her parents’ home number in Ohio. The girls were up in their rooms catching up with homework and listening to music before going to bed, and Miranda was curled up with the Book in her study. 

It was late Saturday evening and so her Mom and Dad should be somewhere around their property, unless her Mom was out on an emergency call from the Children’s Department. Her sisters and brothers had all grown and left home, mostly married and having provided Andrea with a rumbustious assortment of nieces and nephews. Andrea had been the youngest of five, and by virtual of her position in the family, her looks, brains and general charm, was her daddy’s darling, and her mother’s delight. 

A weekly phone call to them had always been the norm through College, but these days she tended to email, or text. There had been so much going on, the break up with Nate, the last six weeks’ tumultuous change in her circumstances with Miranda, and her changed perceptions of who she was and what she wanted from life. All of it had made a direct, sensible conversation almost impossible over the phone.

This call was never going to be easy, and she knew she herself had caused the main problem. Her early months at Runway had been a nightmare, and she had vented her frustrations and fury quite often, and especially extravagantly to her mother. Her father, she knew, had been both alarmed and indignant at the way she was treated by “That woman!” The episode of the flight cancellation from Florida had been a catalyst confirming his most negative suspicions about how he considered his daughter’s sadistic boss, and he had watched it play out in real time on his only visit to Andy back in the early spring. 

Miranda had behaved appallingly then, it was true. It was the only time she had ever made Andy cry, and only Nigel’s brisk pep-talk had given the girl back some spirit. But looking back at it now, it could have been a funny scene in a movie, and Andy had started teasing Miranda about it, as she now knew she could. Thunderstorms did always seem to make Miranda go crazy, as their first, (and only) major row and magic reconciliation could testify. But Andy’s Dad had only seen the first manifestation of weather related meltdown, and thought the ruin of his evening with Andy more than enough to form an accurate opinion of the Runway Editor. 

He had flown home after advising Andrea to find another job immediately, and of course told her mom just how cruel and unreasonable Miranda Priestly was. Since then, if ever Andrea had said anything positive about her, it had fallen on deaf ears, so she had ended up avoiding any mention of Miranda, and what had actually developed between them. This would take some telling. 

She half hoped they were out and she’d get the answering machine, or even a busy signal, but the phone stopped ringing on the third burr and her mother came on the line. 

“Hi Mom,” 

“At last! Darling where have you been? We’ve been so worried, and I don’t recognise this number. Have you changed your phone?”

“I’ve still got the old one, but I use it mainly for work. This is a new I phone.”

“So, how have you been? We haven’t heard from you in person since you said it was all off between you and Nate.”

“Yes, sorry. Nate and I just, you know, drifted apart. He’s now in Boston. He landed a job as a sous-chef in a fancy restaurant up there. But don’t worry. It’s fine. We’re cool.”

“I met his mother in Costco last week, and she seemed upset. We were all rather expecting wedding bells this year.”

“Well that was never going to happen, Mom, so don’t go there.” Andrea fell back on the word she had used to describe things to Miranda. “We found we just weren’t compatible.”

“So who are you dating now? Long silences from your end usually mean either you’re in love with someone unsuitable and don’t want us to know, or worse, you’ve realised they are unsuitable and are in depression.”

Andrea sighed. Her mother knew her history of crazy crushes too well. Looking back, she realised that it had been the women in her life who had caused most heartbreak, not the men and the boys who had usually simply bored her. 

“Neither’s the case here, Mom. But I am in love, with a wonderful person, very suitable. I want you to know before anyone else does. “

“Oh my God, when you say “Person”, I can feel what’s coming. You’ve got a new girlfriend haven’t you?” 

“Well, she’s a woman. I’m her girlfriend. She’s just a bit older.”

“How old?”

Andy took a deep breath. 

“Not so old, five years younger than you, nearly. Not quite . . . 49.”

“Oh, Andy, for heaven’s sake. One of those butch lesbians on your soft-ball team? But they won’t be that old. Single?”

“No, she’s divorced.”

“So she’s been married. How many times?”

“Twice.”

“With children I suppose.”

“Yes. Two.”

Andy could feel her mother take a deep breath and mentally step back so she could give her daughter some space to explain why this most unsuitable sounding partner had captured her far too tender heart. 

Jenny Sachs was nothing if not open-minded. Andy inherited her sense of fair-play and justice, and her willingness to accept diversity within her family’s affections. She had seen her youngest was gay from an early age, and believed all parents knew if their children were gay, even if they refused to acknowledge it.

Andy had rarely fully opened up to her, except when in dire straits over a teacher or coach or some older woman who had attracted her only to chew her up and leave her full of self-hate and self-doubt. Then she had gently directed her back into more mainstream relationships which had less capacity for misery, and hoped for the best. 

The ending of the love affair with Nate she could now see was inevitable, and probably marked the end of Andy’s attempts at heterosexual happiness. The cycle of falling in love, being badly hurt, and suffering at the hands of a woman looked set to be starting once again. 

“So, better get it over with. Who is she, and why have you kept it quiet until now?”

“It’s Miranda.”

“Miranda Priestly? That bitch! Oh darling. My poor little girl!”

Andrea flinched at the sound of her mother’s immediate reaction. There were no mixed feelings here.

“It’s not like, she’s not . . . She’s lovely. I love her.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“From six weeks ago tonight.”

“And you’re still working for her I suppose? She still has you at her beck and call day and night now then.”

“Mom, yes, but I’m giving up the job this week. I’m going to stay home and write. “

“When you say home, I suppose you mean her house?”

“Yes, she has lovely children. The twins . . . . “

“Oh, I remember what you told us about the twins. They are the ones whose school work you did at 2 in the morning, whom you called, “Offspring from hell” at one time as I recall.”

“Look Mom, I can explain. Please understand. Things are so different now. We really are in love. I want to be with her for ever. If you could only meet her . . “

“I don’t normally interfere in your life darling, but this time, yes, I think I should meet Miranda Priestly as soon as possible and have a few words with her. I have some time off in lieu already built up on my rosters, so I will come tomorrow, on the first flight I can get.”

“Oh Mom, don’t trouble to do that. Please . . . “

“No. I’ll be there. I’ll text you with the flight times. Maybe you can find me a hotel.”

“You can stay here, or at the apartment. You don’t need to trouble about a hotel.”

“Your apartment then. I have the address, and I’ll meet you there around lunchtime tomorrow.”

“Mom, when you meet Miranda, you’re going to love her, I promise. “

“Hmm. Let’s wait and see, shall we? All I will say for now, is that you had better warn her about me, and the unlikelihood of it being love at first sight. I hope she has had a personality transplant and is now as sweet as you say. But I kind of doubt it. And no-body messes with my kids’ affections without hearing about it from me. You know I always speak my mind.”

Andrea’s heart came up in her chest and tightened. Yes, she knew just how forthright and plain speaking her Mom could be. She also shared Miranda’s fearless spirit, and had years of experience facing down bullies who had abused their children and cursed her in her role as a social worker. If she came to New York with that same assertive anger as her prime energy, it could end really badly for them all. Miranda could fire up like a dragon when provoked, and Andy feared that if they misunderstood and misread each other it could lead to an almighty row. 

“Mom,” she almost whimpered. “Please be nice. Don’t start a fight as soon as you get here. I am truly in love, truly happy. This one is a keeper. Don’t ruin it.”

Her mother sighed. “Oh course I won’t start any fight. But if there is one to be had, I might be the one to finish it. I suppose Miranda gave you your new IPhone, just so you have to take her calls night and day. Am I right?”

“Hmm, well, yes, but it’s not what you think . . .”

“I suspect it is. Bye, darling. I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you.”

“Bye Mom.”

Andrea took her phone away from her ear and drooped visibly. The call couldn’t have gone any worse if she had scripted it to be a disaster, and she hadn’t even made it as far as telling her father. Mom was usually the more positive of the two when it came to unpacking complicated emotions. And this time, her emotions weren’t complicated. She had not a shadow of a doubt about how much she loved Miranda and how committed she was to her. 

Yes, Miranda could be crazy, capricious at times, strong headed to the point of stupidity, but she was also caring, creative, cuddly and genuinely cultured. She also made love like an angel. No-one could touch her in that respect. She was all Andy ever wanted in a partner. 

The object of her affections walked into the kitchen at this point, just as Andy had sat down at the table and put her head in her hands. There was no need for words for her to see how things were. She crossed over to Andy and gathered her into her arms, kneeling down beside her so their faces were level. She touched the tears which had brimmed over from those huge dark eyes and were beginning to trickle down her cheek. 

“I’m sorry, darling. I’m so sorry. I knew it would be so much harder for you than for me. I’ve got no-one apart from the twins whose opinion I care about enough to cry over. “

“It’s not the gay thing, it’s just . . . . “

Andy couldn’t bear to say it. 

“I know. It’s me. The first page of my name on Google would tell them everything they need to know about what an internationally renowned monster I am.”

“It’s all my fault. I used to moan about you to them. I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to bring you up in conversations. You overwhelmed me so much at first, I couldn’t think straight.”

“And I deserved every moan. I treated you horribly. It was all because I was already besotted with you, and trying to fight it off.”

Andy tried to wipe her cheek but felt another sob coming. 

She gulped, “My mother’s coming to see us. Tomorrow. She’s flying in. Believe me, you don’t know how strong she can be. Don’t let her persuade you to give me up, please!”

“Darling, that would be like cutting through my own windpipe. You are the breath in my body. No-one ever could persuade me. “

Miranda tugged Andy into her arms and kissed away her tears. “You’ve never described your mother though. Is she an Amazon wrestling champion? Do you think she might give me two black eyes and a few broken ribs?”

Andy gave a tiny smile. “You can decide when you see her. Some people do think she’s somewhat formidable, and quite a few of those who didn’t are now in the hospital wing of various gaols.”

“Then I need my rest before meeting her. It can’t be so bad. We both obviously adore you and want the best for you. I am just selfish enough to think that will always be in the closest proximity to my heart. 

“Come up to bed my darling. I’ve already settled the twins, and they are fast asleep.” 

Andy let herself be taken upstairs and helped to undress, wash and crawl into Miranda’s lovely bed. She wore her worn but comfortable cotton pyjamas with pictures of Betty Boop on them. Miranda slid in beside her and gently tugged her over until she lay across her breast and was held in a loving cuddle. The air-con kept the room almost chilly, so they pulled up the light down comforter, and lay together beneath it. 

“Andrea darling, I got us into this, and I’ll deal with it. Don’t worry, I will be so nice to your mother, she won’t know what’s hit her.”

“Hey, there’s to be no violence. From either of you!”

“Of course not. On the contrary, I am going to ask her for your hand in marriage, in the best matriarchal tradition.” 

“Marriage?!”

“Why do you think I’ve bought property in Massachusetts? Now lie still. I want to discuss this with your two beautiful breasts, and see what they think. I am sure they will agree with me on the subject,” and Miranda began very delicately to unfasten the Betty Boop pyjama jacket. 

Her head followed her hand, and Andy gave herself up to Miranda’s skills under the covers. Her tears had dried, and she was soon overwhelmed by emotions of a quite different sort. There wasn’t anyone in the world who could tell her this was wrong, not even her mother. Whatever the next day had in store Miranda and she would face it together. But in the meantime . . .


	4. Will you marry me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miranda meets Andy's mother. Will they get on together?

Andy lay in bed next to Miranda, emerging from sleep through the half-light of early morning into their usual dawn cuddling session. Miranda, as always, wrapped her arms round Andy like a small child with a teddy-bear, and breaking free from her remained a problem. This morning though, Andy wanted to stay in bed until they had talked seriously about how they were going to deal with her Mom’s visit. It was Sunday, so at least they didn’t have to go to the Office, but how long did she intend to stay, and what could they do to impress and entertain her? 

Miranda could feel Andy was already agitated. She had been giving little jumps ever since she had woken, and Miranda’s arms round her waist could feel her physical tension. 

“Hush, don’t fret my love. It will all be fine. When we know which flight she’s on, I can send Roy over to JFK to collect her.”

“No, she won’t like that. It will give the impression that you are some rich VIP who just has to send a car to sweep her up. And Sunday is Roy’s day off.” 

“But how will she cope on the Subway? We should both meet her at the airport then. I’ll go there with you. You shouldn’t have to do it alone.”

“No, trust me. She told me to meet her at my apartment, so that’s what I’ll do. We can talk quietly until she has a better impression of life here than I gave her on the phone. Then I’ll bring her over here to meet you and the girls, and we can have Sunday dinner together.” 

Miranda could not think what Mrs Sachs might look like, but she imagined a typical mid-west, dumpy soul with a bun, no doubt twenty or thirty pounds over-weight from having had five kids and living on pork and beans, and double crust apple pies most of the time. She would be gentle, and cloying and try to pull Andrea away from her through toffee-apple tears, and home-spun stuff about throwing away the chances of a good marriage.

Miranda didn’t meet many people like this in the course of her normal working day, but she guessed how out of her comfort zone New York would make Andrea’s mother feel. She mentally prepared herself to tone down her own normal high fashion glamour and latest designer look, and pretend to be more conventional. If Andy’s fashion sense was anything to go by, her mother would set no store by outward appearances. 

“We still haven’t talked properly about our strategy with Mother. What are we going to do to bring her onside?”

“I keep telling you, don’t worry sweetheart. I shall be the soul of discretion and just sit and smile. Do you think I should organise a playdate for the twins though at someone else’s house, maybe for our first meeting? They can be a bit of a wild card at times.”

“Mother’s used to kids, and they need to meet her. Getting to know each other goes both ways. But you’re right. Keep it simple. Just make sure she knows you adore me, and your intentions are perfectly honourable.”

“Oh dear.”

“What is it?”

“I have a confession to make. From the moment I first saw you in your lumpy blue sweater . . “

“Cerulean, don’t forget!”

“Cerulean sweater then, my intentions have been perfectly dishonourable. My heart and loins wanted to take you to a hotel and remove the sweater and everything else you were wearing, and make love to you for ten hours a day. It just took a while for my mind to catch up and realise the futility of resistance.”

“But didn’t I hear you mumble something about marriage late last night? Was that an actual proposal? That would be a very honourable estate, even if it’s still illegal in New York.”

Miranda turned over, leaning on her left elbow so that she was slightly above Andy, and took her fingers in her right hand. She pulled them to her mouth and gently kissed the knuckles. 

“You know, when we were handcuffed together, part of me wasn’t joking when I said I wanted to stay chained to you for ever. I plotted to wine and dine you and produce a ring with a huge diamond, but I haven’t even made the reservation, let alone buy you the ring. But here goes, for what it’s worth, you in your Betty Boop PJs and me in, well, in nothing actually. “

Miranda shut her eyes and virtually said a prayer, as she whispered in Andrea’s ear.

“Dearest Andrea, it would be the most wonderful thing in the whole world if you would consider becoming my wife. I know I’m used goods, with an appalling track record, but you would have my whole heart, all my love and as many blank exercise books as you could ever want, or electronic notebooks, or IPads or whatever it would take to set you free as the brilliant writer you are. I’m just an editor, but you are an original mind and a great writer.”

“I’m also good at fetching coffee . . .

“Very fetching. . . And very, very good at loving. So what do you say? Could you put up with me in real life, seriously? At the moment it’s as though we ‘re just living out a story from a book.”

“In real life, in any alternative universe, in any reality, yes, I would love to marry you. I’d be honoured. Gosh, I’ll have to pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming. Miranda Priestly wants to marry me. I don’t even have to go to concubine school. . .”

Miranda leaned over further and claimed a long kiss. Then she moved to her default position of lying on Andrea’s breast, pushing her hands through the young woman’s hair, and running her fingers through the waves. 

“I am still going to ask your mother for her blessing. It won’t affect how I feel but I know it would help you. I don’t want us being together to hurt your family in any way. But if they can’t accept us, then we’ll just have to endure it I suppose. I am sure they’ll come round in the end.”

“My mother isn’t the type to “come round”. She is rather like you, making snap judgements and quick decisions. I’m afraid it will take a little miracle for her to revise her first ideas about us.”

“Oh, a good dinner and a glass of sherry might do the trick. Or is she tee-total?”

“No, like you, she enjoys a tipple. Just don’t serve $50 champagne, nor order filet of beef from your favorite restaurant. “

“You think she’d prefer a pasta casserole?”

“No, Mom is vegan, that’s all.”

Miranda had to shift her mental picture of Jenny Sachs slightly, but she wasn’t sure by how much she should adjust her imagination. Perhaps Andrea’s mother was an aging hippie, she’d be the right age. She changed the “Old dear” look in her mind, to a cheerful scrubbed face, open toed sandals, unshaven legs and a sack like dress with Native American jewellery. No wonder darling Andrea hadn’t known how to dress, poor thing. 

Eventually they unpeeled from the bed, woke the kids, had healthy breakfasts, and then Andrea took Cass and Caro to tennis coaching, where Miranda would collect them later (and duly admire their improved backhands), while she went on to the apartment to give it a really good clean- up. She also took some carton and packing boxes to start the final dismantling of its contents.

Miranda thoughtfully worked out how best to present herself to her future mother-in-law. She couldn’t overdo the dressing down. It would look phoney, but she did put on a gentle pink shade of lipstick instead of shocking scarlet. “I’m a lipstick lesbian,” she thought to herself. Ten years before she wouldn’t have countenanced it, but now . . . 

“Andy said “Yes",” she thought. “She said “Yes!” And she began to sing as she walked through her house.

“You are the sunshine of my life, that's why I'll always stay around . . . You are the apple of my eye . . . . “

Meanwhile, over in Brooklyn, Andy hoovered and scrubbed and polished every available surface in her apartment. She opened all the windows for an hour or so, even though the hot sunshine would invade the space. Not living there anymore had made the air stuffy and stale, and even the diesel fumes of New York would recharge the atmosphere and make it brighter and more positive. 

She knew she was well into adulthood, no longer a college student, and shouldn’t fear her Mom’s caustic eye over any muddles or grime, but a visit was so rare, and she wanted nothing more than to give the best possible impression. Miranda had liked the apartment as it was, but she freely admitted this was due to her nostalgic enjoyment of total squalor. 

Andy needed it not to look squalid, just surplus to requirements. She sprayed lavender polish over her table and book shelves, and then began to pack her favorite possessions into a box. If Mother could see she was packing up, it might help convince her that Andy was dead serious about Miranda. 

Her phone pinged with a text message. “Landed. On my way by taxi. I’ll be with you in 20 minutes XX.” 

Andy closed the windows, pulled down the blinds to block the worst of the mid-day sun, smoothed the bed covers, and closed her bedroom door. Then she turned on the fan to cool the living room further, and went down three flights of stairs to street level just in time to see her mother’s taxi come creeping round the corner. 

“Darling!”

“Mom!”

It had been so long, six months since she’d gone home to see her sister Margot’s new baby in March. Andy realised how much she had missed her mother, and how much she loved her. Despite all of this current angst, they were really the best of friends.

They hugged fondly, and Andy showed Jenny Sachs up the three flights of stairs. “So this is where you and Nate lived? I’m so remiss not to have come before. It’s only 2 hours by plane. Why haven’t I come before?”

“Because you hate New York.”

“Yes, but I shouldn’t have neglected you so. “ Andrea could see that the unspoken second half of the sentence would be, “otherwise you wouldn’t be in this mess.”

They entered the apartment. 

“Would you like a drink? Hot tea, iced tea? Cola?”

Her mother looked around. The whole apartment, apart from the bathroom was in open sight. 

“How about some iced tea. If you have tea, and ice.”

“Hey, we’re super civilised here. The water is even turned on. I’ll just run the tap for a while, because the plumbing gets a bit manky.”

“Have you ever brought your Miranda here?”

“Fourth sentence in,” thought Andy. There weren’t going to be many bushes to beat around, that was for sure. 

“Oh yes. Often. She likes it.” She ran the cold water into a pan and put it on the gas ring. “No tea kettle, I’m afraid, but I have a selection. Black tea, green tea, Earl Grey, Lap Sang Soo Shong? We’ve stayed here several times. Miranda is very accepting”

The maternal eyebrows lifted, and a disbelieving frown came between her eyes. Andy pressed on to convince her. 

“Really! She wants me to move over to her place, but that’s only because I’m wasting money on the rent here, and I’ve made a big decision to give up work for a while and concentrate on writing. She’ll sub me until I start getting published. I’ve already got an article accepted for Runway.”  
“Which she edits!”

“Mom, don’t be so mean. Trust me. I know my own mind, and I know what I can do. What tea then?” 

“Green. Do you have any lemons to go with it?”

Andy delved into the fridge and triumphantly produced a lemon. She felt strangely endorsed by its being there, courtesy of Miranda, who liked squeezed lemons with her gin and tonic.

The tea was brewing. Ice cubes were tumbled over it, a lemon squeezed on top, and the jug placed on the coffee table. They sat together on the sofa, and began to calm down together. 

“Well, you look very well, at least.”

“Don’t sound so surprised. I am well. I’ve never been better.”

“You looked worn out in March when you came home.”

“That was then. I’m fine now. The heatwave here has been the only problem. We’ve never dropped below 80 degrees for several weeks now. How’s Dad, how are the family? Any news?”

“Ted has been given his residency in paediatrics for next year. ‘Margot’s gone back to work and put little Lucy into day-care. Hannah’s in Japan still. The others are all fine. Your Dad’s thinking of retirement, which is a worry, because I certainly am not. They need me too badly in the Department. So what he’ll do by himself all day I’m not sure.”

“Play golf? Go fishing? “

“Maybe. What does Miranda do in her time off?”

“Make love to me,” thought Andy. Aloud she said, “Well there isn’t much time between 80 hour weeks on the magazine, and caring for her twin girls. They are ten now. You’ll get a kick out of them. I’ve arranged to take you across town for dinner to meet them all later. We did take a little trip up to Cape Cod a few weeks ago, and Miranda’s bought a beach cottage up there. I hope you’ll visit sometime soon. It will be lovely.”

“I see she’s quite turned your head.”

“No she hasn’t. I think I’ve turned hers actually. She asked me to marry her. She wants to talk to you about it, ask for your blessing.”

“But what about all your dreams? Travelling the world, being a war correspondent, (God forbid), writing for the New York Times?”

“Mom, in one breath you are wishing I’d settled down, married to Nate of all people, and the next you are saying I’m going to be stifled not reporting from a battlefield in Iraq. Make your mind up. Miranda will never stop me doing anything. She respects my space and my ability to look after myself.”

Andy had a sudden, uncomfortable memory as she spoke of Miranda having kittens about her crossing the street to fetch coffee. Perhaps she was stretching the truth just a tiny bit with regard to Miranda letting her do entirely as she pleased, and wander off to global danger zones if she so chose.

“Look I’m just going to give her a quick call to say you’ve arrived safely, and to tell her what time we’ll be over there.”

Her mother helped herself to the waiting iced tea before it all melted into a warm slush, and tried not to listen too intently to Andy’s phone call. She picked up the tone however, even if she missed the words. It sounded so warm, so loving, and so unafraid. Maybe Andy did love this woman. Maybe she hadn’t just been browbeaten into a physical relationship. And what was this new idea of actually marrying the woman all about? 

It was easy to see how Miranda could have charmed her out of this comfortless apartment, and beguiled her with coastal cottages and fast cars. But Andy wasn’t a materialistic girl. Of all her children, she was the least prone to superficiality. 

Jenny Sachs decided to hold her fire, and wait for more evidence before torpedoing the relationship. She had plenty of weapons in her armoury, but she wouldn’t prime them just yet. Her husband had urged her to pull their youngest daughter physically back to Ohio on a plane with her, but she could see that certainly wouldn’t happen, nor was it needed. Her battleship was beginning to turn, ever so slightly, from its intended course. 

They chatted together for another couple of hours, and Jenny actually helped Andrea pack a few books, talking over the much loved titles as they took them from the shelves. 

“Is Miranda a reader?” Probably the women was so obsessed with fashion, nothing else would be in her head. 

“Yes. She collects First Editions of American women writers. She has some great Willa Cather, Eudora Welty, Edith Wharton, and Carson McCullers. She has a first edition of The Color Purple as well.”

“I’m impressed.”

“Ask her and I’m sure she’ll show them to you. She loves reading.”

Back at the townhouse, Miranda was feeling unusually flustered. A vegan visitor was harder to cater for than a simple vegetarian. She would have made her speciality egg-plant and cheese bake, but cheese was not an option, neither were eggs. And she also had to feed the children something they would eat without pulling faces and playing up. What to produce? It couldn’t be that hard. She wished Maria, her housekeeper, was at hand to consult, but surely she could manage this herself.

In the end she nipped out to the local deli and amassed a selection of Greek specialities, pitta bread, salads, one plate of purely pulse based and vegan guaranteed finger foods, and another with feta cheese, olives and dolmados. Fresh peaches and nectarines with black grapes, would complement the first course. It was too warm for a hot dinner anyway. Remembering Andrea warning her off champagne, she went for a good prosecco, and her beloved Pellegrino sparkling water. Tubby little Mrs Sachs would have plenty to tempt her. She even grabbed a tub of dairy free ice-cream for the lady’s probable sweet tooth. 

When she’d finished the food prep and laid the dining room table she called Andy up on her sapphire blue phone. 

“The girls are home safely. Do you want me to drive over and collect you both? I could bring them with me”

“No. Mom says she wants to be independent, so I’m going to give her an experience on the subway on a Sunday afternoon.”

“ . . . . . . “

“Yes. Fine. We’ve done some packing. I told her about your book collecting. That’s an interest you can share with her. “

“ . . . . . “

“Yes, we’ll set out shortly. We’ll be home by 5pm”

“ . . . . . “

“I know. I’m going to persuade her to stay the night with you. The air-conditioning here has broken down again. Mom won’t sleep much if she stays here.”

Andy turned back to her mother, who was already looking rather over-heated.

“Miranda really hopes you will agree to stay at her place overnight. She’ll make you very comfortable. We’d both like that. She has more than one guest room.”

“Well let’s see how it goes,” replied her mother, not entirely graciously. “I’ll bring my overnighter anyway. It’s not heavy.”

They locked up and left, and went out into the sweltering Sunday afternoon heat. Andy knew the next few hours would be make or break, not for her relationship with Miranda, but for that precious, maddeningly difficult but so longstanding relationship between her and her mother. It was this that she was working to sustain. The other was an absolutely non-negotiable bond, rock solid in her mind, after only six weeks of being out in the open, but with nine months of silent desperate yearning on both sides before they had properly connected. 

It took an hour of dusty and tiresome public transport, and a long walk up Miranda’s street before they arrived at the town house. Jenny Sachs was secretly glad to arrive, and also not to have to return to the little apartment unless things really went disastrously wrong. Andy pressed hard on the bell, praying hard to which ever Saint was in charge of lost causes, and Miranda opened the door. 

When she and Jenny Sachs looked at each other, it was hard to say who was more astonished. But there was no doubt who was the more intimidated. Miranda looked up into the face of the most beautiful older woman she had ever seen, a thirty year older version of Andrea, but even taller, slim as a reed and with an effortless elegance. There was also a keen intelligence in the large brown eyes observing her, and a tilt of the head which came from complete self-assurance. Altogether, Miranda, for the first time since she was twelve years old, felt small and shy. 

“Come on,” urged Andrea. “I’m so glad my two favorite women in the whole world have finally met. I want you to really connect with each other. Let’s escape from this heat and get acquainted. Miranda and I have so much to tell you, Mother.”

She pushed her mother forward, saw Jenny move forward to shake Miranda’s hand in the European manner, and closed the door behind them. The next hour or two would be crucial to her future happiness, and she prayed again from deep within her agnostic heart that they would go well. 

“You must be in need of a drink,” said Miranda. 

“Do you have any sparkling water?” replied Jenny. “That would be so perfect.”

And so she was led into the private domain of her daughter’s infamous boss, lover and maybe even more. Andrea picked up her mother’s cabin bag and marched it firmly up to the guest room. Miranda led her visitor through to the kitchen. “Come and meet my daughters. They’re not as bad as they’re sometimes made out to be, but they are ten, and they’re identical twins, so be warned.”

Cassidy and Caroline, who Miranda had made change into pretty Sunday afternoon dresses, with brushed curls and deceptively polite faces, moved forward to be introduced.

“Can we call you Granny?” Caroline launched in at once. “We only have one. The other died a long time ago. Our mother’s an orphan, so we need another urgently.”

“Caroline!” Miranda realised her long lecture session before Andy’s mother’s arrival had fallen on deaf ears. Cassidy now took up the baton.

“You must know we love Andy to pieces. She’s totally ours. Thank you for being her Mom. You must have been brilliant at it, because she is the best. Did you know she and Mommy are Lesbians? We know what that means, don’t worry. There are other words. Our stepfather called Mom a . . . . “

Miranda coughed loudly, and quickly passed Jenny her glass of iced sparkling water. 

“That’ll do, girls. Why don’t you go upstairs now and play? I need to talk to our visitor. I’ll call you for dinner when it’s ready.” 

They heard her tone of voice, and the tone behind the tone of voice, and smiled sweetly. 

“Sure Mom, we just wanted Andy’s mom to feel really welcome.”

“See ya later. Bye.”

They trotted away, and Jenny took the offered chair with a smile. She patted down her cool Linen trouser suit, from the Swedish workshops of Gudrun Sjödén, and crossed long legs. Her toes were bare within Italian leather sandals, and her toenails shone with expertly applied crimson varnish. Her hair, thick and wavy with a smattering of grey over a deep chestnut, was cut short in a stylish bob, but it was her eyes which most fascinated and intimidated Miranda. 

She saw her darling Andrea looking out of them, but also a commanding head-teacher sort of natural authority. Mrs Sachs might easily have been the Dean of an Ivy League Women’s college, or a Head of a Boston law firm, but she also had a strangely streetwise expression, someone who had battled long and hard on the side of Good against Evil and emerged triumphant. Miranda was quite captivated. 

“Now then, my dear,” said Jenny. “Let’s have a real talk here. I want you to tell me all about yourself, and why you want to marry my daughter.” 

Miranda took a seat opposite her and breathed in. She had completely forgotten everything she had intended to say. She just stared at the other woman like a cat caught in the headlights. 

“Er”, was all she could manage.

Andy, thank God, returned just at that moment. “Because she loves me,” she broke in, “and I love her. It’s really so simple. Let me tell you all about it Mom, and I’m sure you’ll understand. And why don’t we go in for dinner. I’m absolutely famished.”


	5. All right.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrea's mother makes an impression.

Andy shepherded her mother and Miranda through to the dining room before they could start on the interrogation of her Beloved’s life story, motivations, moral compass, and goodness knows what else. Both women, whom she knew so well, seemed to be behaving rather oddly compared to their normal way of going about things. 

Miranda seemed to be in somewhat of a trance and was very subdued, while Jennie kept peering hard at her through half closed eyes, as if she was trying to refocus her vision. They both genuinely seemed puzzled by each other, and if Andy didn’t know Miranda so well, she might even have thought she was looking rather frightened. Nothing ever normally frightened Miranda, (well apart from Andy jaywalking through New York traffic.)

Andy was pleased they at least weren’t both in Spanish Galleon fighting mode. So far so good, and hopefully a shared meal would ease the atmosphere further. She went to the bottom of the stairs and called up to the twins, “Dinner’s ready. Come and eat girls.” The twins came tumbling down the stairs and took their places either side of her mother. They were very determined to make a good impression. 

“Should we say Grace because your Mom’s here, Andy?” piped up Cassidy. Caroline turned to their visitor and confided in a stage whisper. “We don’t normally, you know, but maybe you’d like to do it if you’re an, a Episco . . . you know, whatever Andy said you were.”

Miranda shook herself back into the real world, and tried to regain some control over her family. “That’s quite enough, both of you. Please just pass the plates round and fill Mrs Sachs’ water glass for her.”

Jenny Sachs looked round at the spread in front of her. “Thanks Miranda, but do allow them to call me Jenny. We had better be on first name terms, if we’re all to get to know each other. And thanks for accommodating my dietary quirks. I can see there are lots of delicious things to eat here.” 

She turned to the girls. “Thanks for asking, Cassidy, is it? I sometimes do say a grace out loud, and sometimes just send up a thank-you that we have food on our plates when so many haven’t, but let’s not worry too much about formalities this evening.”

The twins could produce good table manners when they wanted, and they piped down, passed food and ate what was put before them without complaining. The meal progressed cheerfully enough with Andy’s mother explaining she had been vegan since her youth by choice, and now her carnivorous sons had all left home, she cooked to please herself and her husband if he cared to join her. Cassidy looked so interested that Miranda could predict she’d be reading up on the subject of veganism that night, and if she wasn’t deflected they might all be living on a strictly meat free diet before the end of the summer. 

“Anything for afters?” asked Andy, when all the Greek themed food had been consumed. 

“Peaches, nectarines and grapes”

“Lovely. Why don’t you and Mom enjoy a glass of Prosecco out to the patio and some fruit with it, now the evening is cooling down. The twins and I will clear the table, and I’ll bring the wine and fruit bowl through. You just go and talk.”

Andy stage-managed their departure from the dining room, and by force of character and a conspiratorial nod of the head to the girls, managed to prevent them joining the adults. 

“Cass and Caro, stay here”, she whispered. “They need time alone.”

“Why?” Caroline whispered back.

“They need to get to know more about each other, and when they do they’ll like each other, I feel sure. It’s important. Just trust me and help me stack the dish-washer.”

“Mom’s very quiet. Do you think she has a headache?”

“No, I’m sure she hasn’t. She just hasn’t met my Mom before. Now carry these plates for me, there’s a sweetie. If you help, then I’ll come up and put in a DVD for you to watch upstairs. How about Freaky Friday? You always like that one” 

“I want you to tell me all about veganism. Does it mean you can’t eat ice-cream?” enquired Cassidy, whose mother obviously knew her only too well. 

Meanwhile the Miranda had obeyed Andrea and taken their visitor outside into the evening sunlight still filtering down into their small town garden. She still didn’t know what to say, or hardly where to put her feet. She had been so very startled by the complete disintegration of her assumptions about Andy’s mother, and realised they had all been in her prejudiced head. Nothing Andy had said had given her the wrong impression, it had all been in her own mind. 

“Jenny,” she began, rather diffidently.

“No, let me start. I want to apologise, before we begin. You probably know I’ve been giving Andrea a hard time about you. I had all sorts of pictures in my mind about you, but I realise now how far off the mark I’ve been.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, I thought you were hard, career obsessed, uncaring, even sadistic. . . “

“Well, you wouldn’t be alone in that assessment . . . “

“But you’re not really like that at all, are you? It’s just theatre. It’s a stage mask. Andy’s not a fool. And I hope she’s not a masochist. I think she’s seen straight into the heart of you. You’re actually a very good woman who’s had to build up a protective shield because of some massive hurt in your past.”

“How do you . . . ? How do you see that from only meeting me scarcely an hour ago?”

Jenny noticed that Miranda did not deny what she’d just said. It confirmed her first startling impression, which had deepened over the dinner table. She had recognised in Miranda, what she had seen in the eyes of many children who had come through her department, just a flicker, but to her exceptionally trained eye, the unmistakable trace of a badly abused child inside a proud, competent and clever woman. 

But she was going to tread lightly. She could see whatever was there was buried so deep, extracting the pain of it wasn’t going to be anything done quickly or easily. Miranda was obviously a woman of many layers and her first task was to let her reveal as much as she wanted, but also ascertain how genuine her feelings were for her daughter.

She answered Miranda’s question quite gently and smoothly. “Oh, through years of training and experience. Rather like a car mechanic can hear something in the sound of an engine that the untrained ear would never pick up.

“But don’t worry, just know that I have put down my weapons. I come in peace. Just tell me how this started between you and Andy. She has said so little about you since those early days when she sounded quite hysterical at times about her job.”

“I’m enough to make anyone hysterical. The problem was, as soon as I hired her, I couldn’t get enough of her. I kept calling her day and night, sometimes at three in the morning. I would make up some stupid excuse, but it was really because I wanted to hear the sound of her voice. And the more she tried to please me, the more irrational I became. I’ve apologised to her, and I’ll do the same to you. No wonder you and your husband hated me. I’ve been ridiculous, but I’ve never been in love like this before. It completely knocked me sideways.”

Andy came out with the fruit bowl and a tray of glasses containing the chilled Prosecco. 

“Are you two OK? No need for bandages yet?”

“We’re fine, sweetheart,” responded her mother. “Just leave us out here a while to get to know one another. No fear of bloodshed.”

Andy was a little perturbed by Miranda’s virtual silence and faraway look. “Are you OK, darling?” She went round the table and took her hand and kissed her cheek. 

“Fine, my love. Just let us old ladies talk for a little while, like your mother said. It would be a great favour though if you could keep the twins entertained for another hour or so.”

“Of course. They’re already embedded into a DVD. I’ll leave you two ladies together then, and come back in a while.”

She could see their body language was quite positive, sitting cornerwise to each other and relaxed, their feet almost touching under the patio table. 

“I’ll be writing in the study if you need me.”

They watched her go inside, closing the patio door to keep in the cool from the air-conditioning units.

“Your daughter is so beautiful. I can’t believe why she wants to be with me. And she takes after you, you are simply stunning, and I have looked at almost every beautiful woman in the western world at some time or other.”

“Thank you Miranda, Coming from you that is a compliment to treasure. Andy does take after me in some ways but she has always been her own woman though. I could tell you enough childhood stories to fill a book, taking off to look for buried treasure, running a kitten orphanage . . . “

“She likes cats? I didn’t know”

“Crazy about them. But I can tell at once why she wants to be with you though. You are a stunningly beautiful and intelligent woman. You don’t need me to tell you that though, and that you have an extra dimension, a touch of charisma, which is so powerful and a rare gift.

“But, hey, this is turning far too fast into a mutual admiration society. What I really want to know is how you two connected on the same wavelength. Andy says it was only six weeks ago?”

Miranda smiled. “Well if you want the saga, I promise you won’t believe it.” She sipped her drink and let the chilled Prosecco run down the back of her throat. Jenny picked out a peach and began to nibble it, skin and all. “I’m all ears.”

“Well, it was a dark and stormy night . . . . “, and Miranda began to tell the funny story of how she and Andrea ended up handcuffed together overnight for twelve or so hours, by the end of which they were lovers, and linked for life, she very much hoped. 

“I do hope to marry Andrea, when she’s ready. I want nothing better, but if you’re not happy, I don’t want it to be a barrier between you and her.”

“If that’s what you and Andy want, then I’ll support you. Now we’ve met, of course I will.”

“And your husband?”

“He will follow my advice and come round as well. He’s always wanted to give Andy away, so he certainly won’t miss the wedding.”

Andy, tapping away upstairs on her lap-top, heard laughter coming from below more than once, and the tinkling sound of more prosecco being poured. Far from fisticuffs, Miranda seemed to be enjoying the warmest interaction with her Mom. She could hardly believe what seemed to be a minor miracle.

The two women sat outside until the summer sunset had come and gone and a dark blue sky, lit up by the city’s lights, canopied above them. Once the children had gone to sleep, Andy came out to join them, and unashamedly sat next to Miranda on the patio garden bench and pulled her head round for a kiss on her mouth. 

“Getting to know each other better then?” she asked, to neither in particular.

“Better,” agreed Miranda. “But your mother is a very fascinating woman. We still have a long way to go. And I am still finding out things about myself she seemed to know from the start.”

“Mom should have been in the CIA. She only has to look at someone for them to want to start confessing their life story.”

She turned to her mother. “What would you like to do tomorrow, dear heart? We have to go to work, but we could organise a trip round all the hot spots of New York if you like.”

“Your Mom and I have already discussed this,” stepped in Miranda. “She says she’d like to visit Runway, and of course I’d be delighted to take her.”

“Wow. She must have stormed your castle. When did you last willingly give anyone a guided tour of the Runway office?”

“Last month actually, when your police friends came to see us, if you recall.“

Miranda seemed to be regaining her spirit and wasn’t going to let Andrea walk all over her. She carried on, “Between you and me, we can show her all the departments and introduce her to Nigel. Then I thought we might all go out to lunch. There’s a new vegetarian place opened which has had good reviews.”

“I’m booked on the 4pm flight from JFK, so this really is a flying visit. But thank you, a Runway visit and a lunch event both sound lovely. And Miranda, may I come again? And will you come to visit me in Cincinnati? I would like that very much. Soon. As soon as you can. “

The evening ended, and there was no talk of retreating to the apartment. Andy and Miranda both escorted Jenny up to the main guest room, and showed her all its en suite quirks, the way to turn the hot and cold taps, and where the spare towels were. They left her there, but not before she drew Andrea in for a big hug and a kiss, and then also pulled Miranda into her arms and gave her a warm kiss as well, on the cheek, but with obvious affection. 

“Goodnight my dear,” she murmured, and watched them both retreat down the corridor towards Miranda’s bedroom. 

Andrea and Miranda lay together in the centre of the big bed, from where they had started the day, seemingly so long before. 

Andy still felt Miranda was somewhat away in a wood. Her eyes were deep and almost navy blue in the low light, and she said very little. She pulled Andrea close but spooned her from behind, holding her body tightly in front of her own, and resting on the pillow just behind her ear. Andrea could feel the tickle of her breath against her neck. She reached up and turned off the lamp and then clasped Miranda’s hands in her own across her waist. 

“Do you think it went as well as it seemed? I certainly think Mom liked you,” she ventured. “I was really surprised how she changed when she met you. You charmed her.”

Miranda said nothing for a few seconds and then said quietly. “She’s as remarkable a mother, as you are a daughter. She reminds me of someone I knew when I was very young, someone I’ll tell you about one day. Someone who rescued me.”

It was rather an unexpected answer, but maybe explained Miranda’s introspection. Andrea knew there was much more she could have said, but there was a lifetime ahead when she could hear it. 

“But you liked her?” 

“Hmm. More than liked. I would say my darling, that your mother is the first woman I have met in a long time, apart from you of course, whom I really hope will be my friend.”

“I hadn’t described her scarcely to you before. Was she much as you expected?”

Miranda stretched herself round Andy even more tightly, and buried her head in her long hair. 

“To be perfectly honest, darling, No she wasn’t, not at all.”

“Oh well. Goodnight then. Sweet dreams darling.”

“Goodnight.”

Andrea fell promptly asleep. But Miranda lay for quite a long time after, thinking about their visitor, and the churning memories which seeing her had brought up from forty years previously. That had been a very dark, very frightening time in her life, but maybe, with Jenny holding one of her hands, and Andy holding the other, she might have the courage to return there one day, and face down the demons she knew still lurked deep inside her brain.

Along the corridor, aloft on the luxury mattress topper of the guest room bed, Jenny Sachs was making a late night call to her husband.

“They’re going to be alright, honey.”

“ . . . . . . . !”

“No, nothing to worry about. Not how we thought. They’ll be fine. Andrea will be fine. I’ll talk to you when I get home tomorrow evening.”

She closed her phone and picked up the magazine from the bed-side table.

Last month’s edition of Runway. Oh well. 

She put on her reading glasses and started with the editorial piece at the beginning. It was very strange, but of all the women she had met in recent years, Miranda Priestly was the first one whom she really hoped she could make her friend. And with Andrea between them, willing them on, how could she possibly fail?


	6. Things to do with chocolate icecream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrea decides it's time to quit.

Andrea leapt out of bed as soon as she woke the following morning, mainly to avoid Miranda’s cuddle trap, but her Beloved was still firmly asleep and she had even relinquished her usual hold onto Andrea’s hair, which seemed to act as a comfort blanket for her. Andrea pulled on a robe and underwear, and padded along to the guest room where she anticipated her mother would have already woken and be reading in bed. She put her head round the door, and on seeing exactly what she expected, went forward and gave her Mom a warm hug. 

“So lovely to see you here. Would you like tea, or a coffee? I can bring one up.”

“Morning, darling. It’s early, barely 6 am., but yes, you know me. At home, I would be up and showered by now. Let’s go down together. Tea sounds great.”

They walked down through the silent house together.

“What’s your normal routine here?”

“I’m not completely sure how they organise it in term time, but with the summer programme for the girls’ vacation now running, Cara, their long-term nanny gets here by eight usually, and organises whatever activities they are doing, and makes sure they get there. Then she arranges their meals and laundry etc. and looks after them until Miranda or I get home. 

“They’ve both won a place in the Juilliard junior music summer school, which starts for their year group today and will run for the next two weeks. They’re both doing really well on the piano, but its time they took up a second instrument. Caroline wants to play the cello, and Cassidy favours the trumpet.”

Jenny raised her eyebrows with a smile. “Remember when your brother learned the trumpet. We had to decamp to the barn to escape it. Does Miranda know what she’s in for?”

“I have warned her. But it could be the drums, so we’re grateful for small mercies. Anyway they are having try-outs this week, so it’s not quite settled.”

Andy filled the tea kettle and turned it on. The coffee machine for Miranda’s brew was already underway.

“So far I’ve been leaving early for the Office, to get there well before Miranda, who comes in by the official car after she’s sorted the twins. But I’m giving in my notice today, and things will be different. Miranda wants us to “come out” with all flags flying. She’s fired up about something else as well. She talked about a press conference later this week, and I’m sure it’s not just to say. “My assistant Andrea Sachs is resigning and by the way I love her”

“Miranda certainly is in love with you. I could tell it as soon as I met her.”

“I’m so glad you can see that, and also that it’s not just a passing fancy with her. I feel just the same. Mom, it means the world to me to know you understand, and you won’t hate her on my behalf.”

“Yes. I do understand, or at least I am deepening my understanding. And I genuinely do want to see where you work, where Miranda’s whole career has been built, and where you’ve spent the last ten months flying about like a whirling dervish.”

At that point, two red-headed pixies appeared, and ran across to hug Andy just as she was pouring coffee.

“Careful Bobbsies, you don’t want to get scalded. How lovely to see you up so bright and early though.”

“Hi Andy. Hi Andy’s Mom.”

They looked a little shyer than they had on Sunday afternoon, and were still in their pyjamas. 

“Call me Jenny,” she urged as she picked up her tea. “Why don’t you show me your rooms, girls, and maybe in a while you might play something for me on the piano? Andy says you have a music summer-school starting today.”

“Yes. At the auditions we thought we were really good until we heard some of the other kids playing.”

“And anyway, Andy says it’s not good to brag about yourself. You have to let others be the judge.”

Jenny laughed as she could hear her own words to her children when they were young coming back at her through these moppets.

“And she’s absolutely right. But what are you playing? Do you like playing duets?”

“Yes,” said Caroline

“How did you know?” followed Cassidy.

“We can learn quickly, because we kind of always know what each other is going to do and how we will make it loud or soft or fast or slow.” 

“We can show you now if you like. We have a music room where we practise.”

“Our teacher says we should do twenty minutes on scales every morning.”

“That’s so boring, but we have to do it.”

The little girls talked in tandem, sharing the information between them, almost as if they were just one child. As soon as she finished her tea, they each took one of Jenny’s arms and led her away up to their practice room. Andy sipped her coffee, then took pity on Miranda and carried her up a large steaming mug.

Miranda surprised her by being already up and emerging from the shower. She was wearing just a large bath sheet and a very cheerful expression.

“I heard the twins thumping down the stairs just now, and then thump back up shortly after.”

“Yes, they have taken Mom to the music room for a little piano recital.”

“Did she sleep well?”

“I forgot to ask, but I’m sure she did. Here, have your coffee, my love. I’m going to have a shower, and then maybe you can fill me in with what you’re up to with regard to Runway. I know you have something up your sleeve.”

Miranda simply smiled enigmatically, and reached over to pull Andrea’s robe apart. She exposed her breasts and gazed on them like the cat looking at a delicious bowl of cream. 

“Oh no, not now, darling. Please! We have to get on . . . “

Andrea’s words died away as Miranda’s aroused expression spoke volumes. She drew her in, pulling her body against hers and claiming a deep kiss on the mouth. 

“I missed my morning cuddle earlier. Where were you?”

“Busy. I can’t loll around all day when there’s work to do, my Mom to look after, coffee to make.”

Miranda’s kiss had completely melted her. She whispered against her ear, “I’ll make it up to you tonight. All right? I promise.”

“Really promise? So we can have an early night?”

“As soon as the girls are asleep, you can do whatever you want with me. How about that?” 

Miranda kissed her again, and sighed. 

“Always jam tomorrow . . . “

“I said, there will be plenty of Jam tonight.”

“How about chocolate ice-cream instead?”

“Hmm. I think we may have finished the tub up last time. And remember the mess. We had to change the sheets.”

“Why do you think I employ a good laundry service? And I can easily leave a note to Cara to buy in another quart of ice-cream.”

“Miranda Priestly, you are a very wicked woman, you know that?”

“No, just pragmatic, as I’ve told you so often before. We can combine dessert with after dinner exercises. The activities involved in the latter will counter any calories consumed from the former.”

“Get off me. No, stop it, Miranda!”

Andy was now being tickled, and had to physically restrain Miranda before she “wasted” any more time.

“Why are you so frisky in the morning?” she panted. “When you glide about Runway like a swan, who would know you’re such a handful at home? And you still haven’t told me what you’re planning.”

Miranda tossed her head, in a parody of how she had always previously dismissed Andy and Emily from her office. 

“Oh, you’ll know soon enough. It will be better coming as a surprise. Now go on and take your shower. That’s all.”

She finished their “conversation” with a bright smile and a quick slap on Andy’s behind, as the robe finally fell to the floor. 

“Let’s all drive into work together as soon as Cara arrives. And I need to call Nigel. While you nip along to Human resources and fill in your resignation papers, I want to introduce him to your mother.”

“Why?”

But there was no answer. Miranda had gone to apply her make-up and choose a dress to wear for the day, yet another scorcher, it was predicted. The heatwave seemed never to be about to break. The chilly cold winds of winter seemed a lifetime ago. 

Roy picked them all up as arranged, minutes after 8am. Jenny had her small luggage case with her, as she needed to go straight to the airport after lunch, but before she left she had hugged both the twins, and given them each a kiss. 

“I want you to come out and visit us soon, mind,” she said. “We live in the country, and we have a pony you could both ride. Andy tells me you learned to horse-ride at Camp.”

“Yes, we did. And it was western riding too. Before we’ve only ridden eastern style on smaller saddles. Which does your pony prefer? “

“He can take either. He’s very old and steady, but he taught Andy and her sisters to ride, and he especially likes little girls. You must come and meet him, and all the cats.”

“Cats? You’ve got cats?”

“We love cats, but Mommy’s never let us have one.”

Miranda overheard this last comment and felt she should clarify. “We recently lost our St Bernard. She was the one who didn’t like cats, not me. If she saw one in the street, she was after it like an express train. You don’t mess with a St Bernard at full speed.”

The hugs were completed and the car set out. Andy, sitting in the front next to Roy, felt she’d almost done a day’s work already, shepherding everyone forward, and organising breakfast, but she was supremely happy. Her Mom and Miranda sat together in the back, chatting away. Miranda had finally overcome her reticence with Jenny, and they were fast becoming friends.

They approached the Elias Clarke offices, and then the day took on a rather unusual and unexpected turn. To start with there was a definite gaggle of paparazzi and reporters clustered outside the main door. Miranda realised too late that they were heading straight for her car.

“Oh shoot,” said Andrea, euphemistically.

“Stay in the car,” said Miranda quickly. “Roy, I’ll get out here, but can you drive the others round a few blocks. By the time you get back the hoard should have dispersed.”

“Sure thing, Miranda.”

Roy stopped at the kerb a few yards in front of the press pack, and Miranda quickly exited. Then he pulled away almost immediately and back into the traffic. Andy looked behind and ruefully saw Miranda engulfed by reporters and photographers. 

“I should have been with her.”

“What did they want? It all looked ferocious,” Jenny commented.

“I guess it’s a follow on from the pictures they took of us eating out on Saturday morning. I haven’t seen Page 6 but I bet there’s something out there.”

Andy pulled out her phone and looked for pictures. She gasped as she saw a whole raft of images of her and Miranda walking hand in hand across the Bakery parking lot. The captions varied from friendly enquiries about their relationship, and her identity, (which thankfully no-one seemed to have twigged,) to the blatantly puerile and obscene, depending on the website or media platform. 

“Miranda puts the girls in sunglasses whenever they encounter the press. The camera flashes can really damage young eyes. But I expect she’ll be OK. She’s an old hand at staving off this sort of thing.”

Roy sounded reassuring, which as he rarely commented on anything, was doubly unusual. 

“Sorry Roy, I should have introduced my mother. Mom, this is Roy, Miranda’s driver and right-hand man.”

Roy continued moving them forward and smiled in the mirror. “Howdy Ma’am, I guessed you might be Andy’s Mom. You’re a looker, if you’ll excuse the expression, just like she is. Welcome to New York. We’ll soon sort out this little problem for you.”

He kept turning left against the oncoming traffic until he was convinced no-one was following them, then worked his way back round a few blocks until they could once more see the Office building ahead. As Miranda had predicted, the press had vanished, and Andy was able to escort her mother inside and get her a visitor’s pass without any incident. Jenny looked in some amazement at the hundreds of people pouring through the lobbies, and at the number of girls running past in very high heels.

“I used to call them the clackers,” whispered Andy while they waited for the pass, “And somehow the name has caught on upstairs.”

“How many different publications are produced here?”

“Oh, more than thirty, I think. I was offered a job by some guys at Adventure Monthly a few weeks ago. Elias Clarke is a very big centre for periodical publishing.”

Andrea shepherded her mother into one of the large elevators, and as they rose up and people came and left the metal box, she began to be nervous on Miranda’s behalf about what Irv Ravitz, the big Cheese CEO was going to say about her appearance on Pages 6,7,8,9, or even 48, of all the gossip columns and red-tops in New York. 

She decided to stop off at the HR department before even going on up to Runway, and officially hand in her notice. Jenny happily agreed, and they hived off on the tenth floor to do the business. 

Andy had no doubt she was doing the right thing, but she felt a twinge of regret as she signed the resignation form, and various other attachments, including a non-disclosure form. 

“Reason for ceasing employment” made her pause. What to say? 

“Falling in love with the boss.”? This was true but maybe unwise to put down in writing.

“Moving to other employment.” That would do. 

She saw the papers filed and her two week notice officially start. 

“Come on Momsy. Let’s go and see how Miranda has fared, and then I’d like to introduce you to some of my colleagues.”

Miranda’s office appeared quiet, and Andy couldn’t see her anywhere inside. Nigel, on the other hand was in the outer office, perched on the edge of her desk and obviously talking to Emily, who was sniffing into a handkerchief. 

“Ah, the mystery tabloid darling!” he exclaimed, as the two Sachs women entered. “And who is this vision of delight?”

“This is my Mom. I’ll introduce you if you promise to be nice. Miranda wanted you two to meet. Where is she, by the way?”

Nigel pulled a face. “We were just getting started with our nice chat, when Irv called down, scorching the phone line, and demanded she go up to his office at once. If he had a carpet, I suspect our Editor would be on it. I could hear him bellowing from four feet away.”

“Oh my poor Miranda. Should I go up and rescue her?”

“No, Miranda won’t need rescuing. I expect what’s left of Irv will be just enough to put into a small box and then posted home to his wife.”

“Two people walking across a carpark can’t be too salacious an image. Anyway, I’ve just handed in my resignation. I’m pursuing other employment from now on.”

Emily broke into the conversation. Her face went very pink, and Andy thought for one moment she was about to cry. 

“It’s not just the pictures in the press . . . “

“What do you mean?”

“You know the file of photos you took of Miranda, when I asked you to follow her, and find out who she was seeing . . . “

“Yes? So?”

“I’m really sorry Andy. I copied them over on to my computer one evening when I was here alone. I should have told you.”

“I deleted that file from my computer ages ago.”

“Yes, but I saved them on mine. They were so good, and some of them were so artistic. But somehow they slipped into the wrong folder, and Irv has got his hands on them.”

“What???”

Andy gave a small scream of horror. Then she remembered, “But they were just of Miranda out on the town. There was nothing wrong there.”

“Didn’t you see the ones at the end? Honestly Andy, I only found them by mistake. There are five or six of you, asleep . . . “

“Huh? No, that can’t be right.”

Emily nodded. Her face became as red as a tomato. “And, you’re, you’re naked. I mean completely . . . naked, apart from your hair.”

Nigel looked excited. Jenny looked shocked. Andrea looked dumbfounded.

They all stared hard at Emily, who didn’t know where to look. 

“I think maybe Miranda took the pictures while you were sleeping.”

“And now Irv has them, and goodness knows how many other people?”

“No-one else, I hope. He just wanted to see the proofs for next month’s cover, and for some reason I must have caught and clicked on the two folders together when I sent him them by email. But he can use it to blackmail Miranda. He can spin it anyway he wants and he will. It’s all my fault. I’m going to resign and then I’ll just go and kill myself.”

“Emily Charlton, will you stop threatening to resign or I might just take you up on it one day soon!”

The office door had swung open and Miranda appeared before them. She didn’t appear to be battered, bruised or weeping. Rather she resembled Boadicea, after one of her victories against the Romans. 

“Miranda! “ “What happened?”

“You know my rule! Don’t ask questions. Suffice it to say, I have enough dirt piled up on Mr Ravitz to fill a hoover bag, and he quickly came round to my way of thinking about all of this.”

“Which is?” Nigel was the most senior of them all. It was only right that he should press her on it. 

“That Runway is naturally famed the world over for the high quality of its photography, and the ground-breaking nature of its art work and imagery. Private photos are just that, private, and if a few slip into the thousands of files we see every month, then it is something and nothing, certainly nothing for him to poke his nose into. And anyway, his opinion of me is of no interest to me at all. I took the photos in question, and they belong solely to me.” 

She turned to Andrea’s mother, who was still standing by the door and looking very bemused. 

“Now, Jenny, I was so sorry not to be here to greet you here properly. I wanted you to meet Nigel, who is currently our Art Director, because I do hope you’ll consider coming back later, maybe in the Fall, and having some studio shots taken. I want him to do a feature on beautiful real life women from across America, and I hope you might consider being the first in the series.”

Nigel nodded cautiously in agreement. “Wow, if this beautiful woman is Andy’s mother, then I understand what you mean. Mrs Sachs, it’s a pleasure. You are extremely photogenic. But Miranda, what did I just hear? “Currently Art Director”? I’m not too happy at the sound of that.” 

“I’ll explain. Andrea, why not help your mother to a drink, and then maybe give her a tour of all our Runway departments, show her how we construct the Book, and what’s currently in the Closet?

“Nigel and I will now have a meeting in my office about something I want to run by him. 

“And Emily, oh Emily, you’d better get down to HR and see what prospects there are for a new second assistant. Andrea’s decision to abandon us is the only real tragedy today.”

Miranda had turned back to Andy. “May I take it you’ve done the deed?”, she asked. 

Andy nodded. “Yes, working my notice out, Boss. Two weeks to Blast off. “

Miranda sighed dramatically, then in front of the assembled company, gathered her in and kissed her very definitely on her mouth.

“Oh well, I’ve obviously lost an assistant and gained a whole more load of trouble.”

“I adore you too, Miranda. But before we disperse, do tell us what happened with the reporters. How did you shake them off?”

“I didn’t try to. I just told them to chase some real news, and I promised them a news conference on Thursday. That’s what I need to talk to Nigel about. We’ll meet back here in an hour or so?”

Miranda grabbed Nigel’s shirt sleeve – Even he was finding it too hot for jackets – and propelled him into her room. The door shut behind them. Emily, Jenny and Andrea all exchanged slightly puzzled glances. 

Emily remembered her manners. She stood up and offered Jenny her chair, and murmured to Andy. “I’ll go and get us some cold drinks. Why don’t you show your Mom the Book? Then I’ll call Serena and organise a session where she can explain the work of the Beauty department”.

By lunchtime, Jenny Sachs had completed a most enjoyable tour of the whole Runway enterprise, and Serena, the beauty editor, entranced by her bone structure, dark eyes and delightfully curvy lips, had asked her to finish the tour with a make-up session for herself. 

“Serena is a celebrity make-up artist,” confided Emily, obviously smitten, but speaking quite accurately. 

“I’m only a working woman going home to Ohio,” responded Jenny, rather charmed by the bevy of young beauties surrounding her, but she allowed herself to be played with, and admired the results in the mirror when Serena had finished. It was an outrageous idea of Miranda’s to put her in as a model within the exalted pages of Runway, but she could see how it might be fun, and the resulting album would be a good Christmas present for Andrea’s father, her first and last boyfriend of the past thirty-five years.

“Has Serena ever done your make-up?” she turned to ask her youngest daughter, who was watching with great enjoyment, while munching on an apple. 

“Oh, Miranda is the only one allowed to touch Andrea,” smiled Serena. “I guess that you understand how it is with them?” Emily had already told her about the first public kiss in their office. 

At that moment Miranda buzzed Andy’s phone, to organise lunch for them all.

“You and Serena as well,” informed Andrea after she took the call, “And Nigel. We’re all going to the new vegan restaurant up by the Village. Miranda wants to talk to us all, it seems.”

They gathered round a large oval table towards the back of the restaurant. Roy had brought the “family”, and the others had followed in a yellow cab. Emily tried to get used to this by now familiar violent shift in her fortunes with Miranda, who was furious one time when she least expected it, and then far kinder than she deserved, the next. 

“Nigel has heard my idea, and he doesn’t entirely dislike it. It’s this. I have been Editor of Runway for the past twelve years now, and in all that time I have barely had a week off, certainly never taken a much longer break. In recent months I’ve been feeling the strain. I know I’ve been an absolute dragon at times, and I’m not giving my best, not at home nor at work. 

“So I propose giving myself a sabbatical. I’m not sure how I’ll cope, you know what a control freak I am. But I think it’s the right thing to do.”

“For ten months from the end of this month I’ve asked Nigel to take over as Acting Editor in Chief, and I think you, Emily, could step up as Acting Art Director. Serena, you’re already running a good team in the Beauty department, and I just need to prep the folk in Editorial and Advertising. 

“I hope Andrea and I, with our girls, will be able to spend much more time together, maybe up in Provincetown, and then sometime next spring, I hope you’ll all come to our wedding.” 

Miranda reached out to the person sitting next to her, who of course was Andy, and took her hand fondly.

“So, what do you all think?”

“Miranda! Thank you. I won’t let you down.” Emily, naturally, was the first to jump in with affirmation. 

Nigel smiled broadly. He then asked, “And at the end of the year?”

“By then, I’ll be a new woman. And don’t worry. I’m sure by then you’ll have your own title as Editor. What about a men’s version of Runway? How about “Gangway?” 

Jenny Sachs looked round at the people before her, now counting them as her friends. She could fully respect the courageous step Miranda was taking, to stop doing what she was so good at, in order to re-find herself, and honour her commitment to her daughter, by giving her time and space. She even paused to reconsider about her own relentless pursuit of her profession, which she had hardly ceased, even while raising all her children. 

Maybe she could ease off, become friends with Miranda, spend more time with her children and grandkids. She knew there was a good deal of hidden depths in Miranda, and a sabbatical year might allow the good stuff to develop and the bad stuff be discarded for ever. 

Andrea squeezed her lover’s hand fondly, but her words were teasing. “Typical! I resign to get away from you, and what do you do? - leave at exactly the same time as well! How will I ever get any writing done?”

“Oh you surely will,” smiled Miranda. “Why don’t you start by sitting down and telling everyone out there our little story? That might be a good start.”

Andy squeezed Miranda’s fingers, and curled her own inside her Beloved’s palm. The rest of their summer looked promising on all fronts, and then would come the Fall, and the months running up to the lovely season of Christmas. At last they would have time to talk, to walk, to make love, and just to be, and for her to write. Miranda was correct. Their story deserved to be told, and they would generate new stories as well, she was sure.

They all discussed Miranda’s idea for half an hour longer, about telling the rest of the staff, about Miranda’s planned press-conference. Then Andy glanced at her watch and realised it was time to take her mother back to the airport. Roy would be waiting, but surely he wouldn’t mind calling at a supermarket on the way back, just long enough for her to pick up a quart of double chocolate ice-cream. She did not want to leave any risk of Cara forgetting the commission. For she, of course, wouldn’t have any wild idea what they intended to use it for! 

The End.


End file.
